


A Universe, Incomprehensible

by skytramp



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Awkwardness, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 10:48:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8283160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skytramp/pseuds/skytramp
Summary: “I probably can't tell it right but okay so…” he launches into what, Rung is sure, must be a thrilling story of ship-wide gossip, and Rung continues to work. He makes sure to listen, of course, and respond at appropriate intervals, but if he stopped cataloging every time Rodimus barged into his chambers he'd get very little work done. If he finds himself listening and laughing slightly more than he had planned, well, that's surely his business alone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for my lovely squid friend Gale with lots of their help for robot-sex-words etc.

“You won't  _ believe _ what happened today.” Rodimus says, sliding, uninvited, through what should have been the sealed door to Rung’s rooms. He plops down on the nearest elevated surface with a clang and squeak of relaxing metal. 

 

“What happened?” Rung asks, hoping the patience in his voice covers the smile at the edge of his mouth as he continues to scroll through the datapad he'd been working on. Rung can just see Rodimus’ relaxed figure at the edge of his vision as Rod shrugs dramatically. 

 

“I probably can't tell it right but okay so…” he launches into what, Rung is sure, must be a thrilling story of ship-wide gossip, and Rung continues to work. He makes sure to listen, of course, and respond at appropriate intervals, but if he stopped cataloging every time Rodimus barged into his chambers he'd get very little work done. If he finds himself listening and laughing slightly more than he had planned, well, that's surely  _ his _ business alone. 

 

“It's beginning to get late, you know, you've got early duty.” Rung says, adjusting the light levels in the room to near re-charge levels, as if to hint at the hour. 

 

Rodimus stifles a yawn as he gets to his feet. “Every day is early duty, besides, I don't need rest.” 

 

Rung stands up as well, stretching the creaks out of his joints. “Everyone must rest.” 

 

“Not me.” Rodimus insists, stepping closer to the exit, if only in an obvious attempt to step closer to Rung himself. 

 

“ _ Everyone,  _ Rodimus. Even you.” Rung pats Rodimus on the shoulder, letting his hand sit for just a moment too long before stepping around him and towards his private rooms. 

 

“I am an adult, you know. You can't just put me to bed.” 

 

Rung doesn't turn around to watch Rodimus fidget, but he can hear it in the shuffling of his feet. Rung stops walking. “I can't?” 

 

Rodimus doesn't answer, and in the pause Rung knows he's said something he can't take back. It feels like something inevitable, a space ship without power aimlessly spiraling towards a black hole, Rung’s nameless affection spiraling until it hits  _ something _ that knocks the wind out of him. 

 

Rodimus takes a breath. “You… could.” 

 

Another pause, and in this one neither of them move. Rung has all but accepted his fate, but there's a part of him that wonders if Rodimus knows just what he's doing. 

 

“Come on then.” Rung says, and walks away, leaving the room with the dim light shining dully off Rodimus’ plating. 

  
  


It's a few minutes before Rodimus joins him, and Rung spends the time in flux organizing the spectacles on the table beside his berth until they're in a straight line, and then quickly changing them back. He takes the pair from his face and sets them with the rest. 

 

Rodimus’ entrance, though expected, surprises Rung to the point that he panics and puts his glasses back on as he looks to the doorway. 

 

“Ah, good.” Rung says, sounding vaguely as if he's greeting a patient in need of counseling. “You're here.”

 

Rodimus doesn't answer, and the lack of witty response sends a chill through Rung’s frame. 

 

“Would you like to sit?” Rung gestures to his berth and then quickly to a chair in the corner which he never uses. He had nearly forgotten it was there. 

 

Rodimus seems to grasp the offer like a lifeline and visibly relaxes as he crosses the room to sit on the corner of Rung’s berth. Rung sits beside him and removes his glasses again. He sets them neatly on the table. 

 

“It's getting late,” he hears himself repeat, and Rodimus nods. “You should lay down.” 

 

At this Rodimus stiffens. Rung wonders if perhaps that was too much, had he been insensitive to Rodimus’ wishes? Had he misread the intentions inherent in every late night visit? 

 

“You don't  _ have _ to, Rodimus. It was simply a suggestion.” He tries quickly, barely managing to keep his voice calm in his momentary panic. 

 

“I will.” Rodimus replies, and his attempt at indignation sounds weaker than Rung is sure he had intended. “I told you I wasn't tired, give me a minute.”

 

Rung nods and scoots away, giving Rodimus the room to lay down while giving himself some much needed breathing room. He's not sure why he's so nervous, it's not as if this is the first time he's initiated amorous contact with a friend, but it's been years, and never has he met a being like Rodimus. 

 

He'll just have to be certain that he  _ never _ says that particular thought aloud. 

 

When Rodimus lies down it’s with a shaky exhale. Rung realizes, not soon enough, that his attempt to give Rod more space had only resulted in his, now horizontal frame, aligning closely with Rung’s own seated one. He can feel the slight vibrations trembling from the edges of Rodimus’ plating. Rodimus’ face, eyes closed and looking more dead than recharging, is close enough that Rung could run his fingertips over the angles of his cheeks without a reach. 

 

It's only seconds later that Rung realizes he's doing just that, the pads of his fingertips tapping gently across the edges of Rodimus’ face, not-quite-caressing every angle before he had even been able to stop himself. Rod’s eyes flick open, just for a moment, and then back closed with a shiver.

 

“Would you like to…” Rung begins, and then hesitates. What they've done so far, all that can be forgotten, it can be written off, talked away or ignored, but he knows too well if he completes his sentence that it will be too late for that. He takes a deep breath and notices how Rodimus is waiting, frozen in anticipation, and the thrill of it galvanizes him. 

 

“I'd like to watch you. If you would… touch yourself for me.” He's embarrassed by the phrase, but so incredibly turned on by Rodimus’ instant compliance that any radiant shame turns to pleasure at the sight of Rod’s hand moving down his chest. 

 

With a slight hiss of hydraulic release Rodimus reveals his spike. The sight of its gratuitous lubrication sends a thrill through Rung, knowing that he had caused it. 

 

Rodimus moves his hand with practiced ease, but only his hand moves. His frame seems glued to the berth beneath him even as Rung leans to hover above his face. “Is this how you always touch yourself? I rather thought you'd be more showy.”

 

Rung almost laughs at the way Rodimus shakes, arm jerking in surprise as the static radiates from his frame with enough force that Rung can feel the tingle. 

 

“I… Should I?” Rodimus asks, and his voice cracks with the strain of his arousal, vocalizer already nearing a power surge. 

 

“You want to, right?” Rung asks instead of answering. “I want you to do what you want to do.”

 

Rodimus just nods, but when he moves again, hand encircling his spike with renewed vigor, he's more expressive. His hips move up off the berth with every twist and when he opens his mouth to let out a crackling moan Rung can't help but kiss him. 

 

He didn't plan it, he didn't expect it, but Rung kisses him with a fervor he didn't know he felt. Their mouths meld together, hard angles and pliable lips aligning in such a way that Rung thinks that if he could live inside a kiss, he should like to live here. Rodimus’ shaky cracked moan leaks out between their mouths. 

 

When Rung pulls back he can see Rodimus is close to overload. It's clear by the way that the static bursts from Rod’s frame like lightning and the frantic pace of his hand on his well lubed spike that it would only be moments until the end. 

 

“Rodimus…” Rung says, and, hearing his own exasperated voice, he forces himself to continue before his own vocalizer begins to malfunction, “You've done so well.” He puts his hand on Rod’s chest, relishing the way the static sinks in through his fingertips. “So well.”

 

Rodimus’ eyes open, wide and surprised, as if shocked by his own overload, as the fluids leak down his hand and onto the plating of his abdomen. His limbs shake, twitching like spent parts and hissing intermittently with sporadic hydraulic releases. 

 

Rung lays down beside him, too tired and on edge to do much more but hold Rodimus close as he shakes through the aftereffects of his overload. He can feel Rod’s fluid under his hand, and after a moment of discomfort, takes Rodimus’ hand in his. Rung pulls Rod’s head to his chest. 

 

Perhaps in the morning something will be different, perhaps this was a mistake that Rung will regret for centuries, but something tells him this is different. This is right in the way few things are, an alignment of planets into a pattern only gods could witness, the beauty of a universe incomprehensible. 

 


End file.
